The Unit: Home by Another Name
by roomtable202
Summary: Story that unfolds after the different events during season 3 and focuses on the characters of Charles Grey and Jonas Blane. Re-posted.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Home by another name

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

**Note:** For those who asked me to re-post my stories, sorry I took them away in the first place and thank you so much for your messages. Someone is helping with a translation into Spanish for those interested, it will be posted as it gets ready.

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Molly knew by now, Charles Grey wasn't a man of complimentary words, but he never failed in giving her a hand in cleaning the kitchen wherever he was invited for lunch. Actions speak louder than words, they say. This time, she could tell he was on the verge of falling down, his tanned skin whiter than she had ever seen on years; except for the various changing colors of his present marks, eyes all red and bulgy, he was way too far from the chirpy joking guy he used to be at parties. Nonetheless, he didn't make excuses until the last dish was dry and everything in its place.

"Thank you, Molly. I'd better be leaving."

"Where are you going? I've Betsy's room ready for you to have a good nice rest."

"No, no..."

"Please, Charlie. You look like you need it. I know your apartment, far too noisy to sleep by day, no food in the fridge." Molly was looking directly into Grey's eyes and when he lowered his head she realized he wanted to be convinced as much as he didn't want to return to his apartment or to the base and she knew better than not insisting some more.

"I am just offering you a dark and quiet room for a couple of days, home cooked food with no timetables on you... I-I would feel so much better if you should say yes... You see Jonas didn't think it twice and is already at it..."

"You say you'd feel better? You... Molly, it's... I..."

"... and for the same price I will have a look at those bruises and cuts of you if you let me, credit me some experience in making them better sooner. What you say?"

Grey acquiesced quietly by raising his head and looking back at Molly.

"You sure you don't mind having a look at those? I can feel some are pulsing, not a good sign, maybe not a good sight either... I can..."

"I'm sure we can fix it quite well between the two of us. Remember when I cut myself that Christmas and you stitched me, six good ones, no anesthetics 'cause you said it wouldn't feel more than a pinch...?"

"Hell, yeah...With that big carving knife close by your side. I thought you were about to kill me with your free hand any minute, you were so angry at me..."

"You were quick and matter of fact... but man it hurt! Now it's time for revenge." And Molly melted in one of those warm, broad, smiles of hers. "Get off your shirt, right? How about your legs...?"

"Just the upper side of my independent republic of self got assaulted." Grey tried but couldn't return her a smile of his own.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Home by another name

**Author**: roomtable202

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

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To get asleep had never been any trouble for Grey, since some 72 hours ago... until now, when he most needed it. Sitting on the edge of the bed mesmerized by the tiny sun ray trespassing trough a small hole of the bedroom shutter, the same place exactly, the same position, he had maintained during the last two hours, wasn't helping either.

It was not because his wounds did hurt more after Molly's tendering, he could manage; he wasn't hungry or thirsty either; didn't feel cold or too hot; he tried to lie on the bed, to lie on the floor, did some push-ups, ... That was the problem, he couldn't think of anything else to do.

He learned at a very young age that crying didn't serve him any purpose as not his mum or the very many other persons that did have him around those early years didn't care. So, he never cried as a child, nor did he as an adult, not even when nearly 16 his own mother died. But then, in that room, he wished he could,... that it were like puking when sick, a reflex act, something physical that could free him of that hollow nothing he was feeling; he wished he was able to get rid of it, without knowing how or why, and could finally abandon himself to sleep.

"Charlie...?" Molly's whispering from the door interrupted his inner musing but he didn't turn around to face her. "Can't you sleep?"

"No."

Molly got in with a mug of hot milk and some cookies, without turning the lights on, half closing the door, looking now at his face. Quickly adapting to the darkness of the room, Molly couldn't tell for sure if the man was really awake, no matter his eyes were fully open. He did not make any further movement recognising Molly's presence either but kept staring at the tiny ray of light.

"Let me help... Sure you look like you need it... And I can help... There. Just drink the milk and eat one of the cookies." She approached the mug to his hands lying loose on his lap, not knowing whether he would take it. He looked at it heaving a shallow sigh and drank it in big gulps. "You lie face down on the bed now; lie down... let me..."

"Molly..."

"Hush, hush... Just lie face down... Please lie down... Close your eyes..."

Molly searched with a fleeting look where she could give him just some mild massaging to relief his tension among the extensive little wounds and bruising that occupied most of his back and arms and, finally, rested her right hand soothingly warm over his cheekbone, her fingers gently moving between his curly hair, her eyes glued on his shaggy face, reassuringly.

"Close your eyes now... You just have to breathe slowly... Relax... Let yourself go... You are tired... Shsss, Shssss... You need to rest... Shsss... Go to sleep now... Go to sleep... Shsss... Shssss..." In almost no time, Charles Grey subdued, exhaled from deep inside and a small teardrop rolled down his nose,... but that he would never know, for he was soundly asleep by then.

After pulling his covers up for him, Molly left the room and closed the door quietly with her own eyes watering, just realising she had a glimpse of that hidden suffering that Jonas will never dare to share with her.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Home by another name - Chapter 3

**Author**: roomtable202

**Fandom**: The Unit

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

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Molly was sitting in the kitchen looking at both the black backpacks down in the corner, where Jonas and Grey had left them the morning before. She was somehow startled to discover she couldn't distinguish between the two of them. One would have expected Grey's backpack to match his normal disheveled image, with his long hair and beard. When she heard Jonas was coming from their bedroom, she stood up to meet him.

"Welcome back. You were lost in dreams for quite a long time, Sergeant Major Blaine." Molly kissed Jonas lightly on his lips. "Have you had a nice rest?"

"That I had." Jonas returned her kiss.

"Let me close the door. Charlie is sleeping in Betsy's room."

"There are no limits to your power of persuasion, woman? I see you convinced him to stay. Well done."

"Eggs, bacon and toast?"

"That will be just perfect with some coffee at the side."

"Sure you wouldn't prefer having dinner? It's about time."

"No, I couldn't take it. I'll adjust by tomorrow, I promise."

Molly returned him a wry smile with her eyes wide open in mocked innocence.

"So, you'll "fully" adjust by tomorrow, ha?"

"Molly you are a perverse woman... You know, I am trained to be mission ready at all times and I'll prove it to you in due time... "

"How about that!"

"I'll go to the office to keep an eye on the team and will be home before you go to bed. Want me to do some shopping back or anything?"

"No, mister. Everything is under control. I'll be here the rest of the evening. I had a support group meeting, but I'd rather stay, just in case Charlie wakes up."

"Don't overdue it, woman. Someone that can find his way through a dessert storm can as well find his way to the fridge and microwave whatever he pleases without your help."

Jonas approached Molly from behind and laid his big hands over her shoulders, with an intuition of her inner fuming at his words.

"I take it we invited a full grown friend here. Don't baby sit him, Molly. You know how much I hate it when you try to play nurses with me, and I don't see it different with Grey."

"We are on the same page, Jonas. No need to give me a lecture during our first hour together. I just-"

"Molly, I am just saying: he wants something, he'll look for it. Save the cuddling for Betsy, Grey needs no more than some good food and some rest among people who care."

"When you called me yesterday to say you two were coming and you mentioned the"care" part, I thought it included providing some human warmth too, Jonas, not just food, rest and cleaning both your dirty laundry... you could have had that in any motel. Oh, that's it, I forgot: no good deed gets unpunished. (...) And don't put me your teddy bear face, man. Ok. I go to my meeting, you go to the office." And with these final words she hastily turned to keep an eye on her cooking.

"That's it." He gently slide his hands up to her neck and caressed the back of her head, when Molly turned to look at him, he planted a kiss on her wife's inviting mouth. "This is to say "sorry"... " And he kissed her again. "And this to say I missed you, honey. Very, very, very much." Molly passed her free arm behind his back and held him close.

"Me too. I am glad you are back home."

* * *

_7 days before, somewhere on high ground in Bolivia_

The deception plan proved to be a good move because they were no more than a mile off the position, but then they heard some hooting behind them. Dirt Diver, at the tail of the single line, was the first to turn around and saw the lights. Vehicles moved now and again in the distance.

"Shit!" he muttered. "All they've got to do now is follow. "

"It's getting dark and the tracks and the footprints of Chaves men must have got mixed up with ours and confuse them." Retorted Betty Blue. "No drama, no drama."

"The river is 400 or 500 feet lower and we were some 900 feet above sea level. We need to get out the snowline. If we head down north we should find some protection from the chill and thus we could replenish our bottles too. Water will be a problem soon if we head north-west." Jonas was considering alternatives. "If the weather does not improve soon, we might well have seen our last daylight." The wind-chill was eating them bitterly by then and the ground afforded no cover.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Home by another name - Chapter 4

**Author**: roomtable202

**Fandom**: The Unit

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

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__(From Cool Breeze's oral account in the Cave)_

"We had been walking by night some good 30 miles. There was this natural depression near and we decided to hole up there, keeping low, and rest by day counting on some sun to keep some heat back. We cuddled up and tried to share body warmth; but, in a while, against all odds, it started raining and then it was snowing. The ditch was getting all messed up. It was incredibly cold, like lying on an iceberg. After 6 hours of immobility, grounded, helping each other with the sudden cramps, I saw Betty Blue's lips were turning purple and it was clear we had no choice but to head back south again to keep moving. We couldn't stay much longer without moving because we were badly needing to generate some body heat and we could not advance north as, eventually, with all that sudden traffic we'd have been compromised in less than two hours."

"Top ordered us to get sanitized in case we were stopped. We looked for the maps and all the rest we had on us that could give the mission away if taken. We searched each other pockets twice to make sure we will go all clear and we burnt all we found that might be compromising before it was dark enough for the flame to catch somebody's eye. By then, all of us were soaking wet and feeling quite numb, but Betty Blue was the one suffering more. It was pitch dark, no moon. We took his backpack and we put him leading the line to adjust at his pace. It took us quite a bit to catch a regular march again."

"During the next hours we managed to drop some 150 feet in elevation although all of us were suffering badly, stumbling every now and then, shivering violently... my own mind was wandering. I was on the tail position and I didn't think no more on covering up our trail. We stopped because Betty Blue was seriously affected, staggering, slurring, definitively taking a downward turn. We saw a spot behind some big stones to rest. Top and Dirt Diver opened their jackets and positioned themselves on top of Betty Blue to give him body heat while I did two brews with the rest of the water mixed with food. At that moment, we didn't care anymore about making a fire and blowing up our cover or anything else than arriving at the border with our package the quickest possible way. We managed to get Betty Blue swallowing some of that hot food; we took the rest of it. I added to the huddle to try and get warm and we all experienced a little improvement. We spend some two hours like this and then we talked over what was to be our next move."

(_From_ _Dirt Diver's oral account in the Cave)_

"We were running out of time, fast. We had three main factors to worry about: the weather, our physical condition and the enemy. The weather could change for good but it wouldn't be quick; our physical condition couldn't have been worse, and they were far more enemies in this area than we had been told. Actually, we suspected that we had gone deeper into some sort of large logistics area of Chaves's drug cartel while trying to escape from the traffic and the snow."

"Our priority was passing the border and delivering the package as fast as possible. We decided for the riverbed. It would make some 20-25 miles in an area where concealment would be increasingly difficult, but it will give us tactical cover if anybody was going to attack us and we would be protected from the wind."

"We started moving again, in a line, with some 4 yards between us; Top was scouting followed by Cool Breeze and Betty Blue, who was doing some better and striving but not whole yet. I was at the tail keeping an eye on our six and trying not to lose sight of Cool Breeze, so that we wouldn't be stranded from the line in case Betty Blue would lose track. We decided there would be no talking at all and be very careful about making noise as the ground started to change back to bedrock and that created a problem."

"We should have been patrolling some two hours or more. It was daybreak, but we kept moving risking it to make it asap to the border. Suddenly, Top froze and we all duplicated instantly his movement. We all looked around trying to see what he saw. There was a line of trees on the right, where a corrugated rooftop was barely seen. On the left there two huge rocks emerging from the grass. In front, the top of the next hill. Behind us, no lights or movement. Top communicated by hand signals to lay low and we started to get into cover as slowly as we could in order not to compromise ourselves making any clattering with our weapons or any metal parts against the bedrock."

"I crawled on my belly close to Top and he pointed deliberately up, some 200 yards behind one of the two big rocks, and there was definitely against the skyline a blonde head and some shining; it could have been binoculars, a scope of a rifle, anything, but it was clearly visible from there that we'd got company at stake in less that 200 yards."

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	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: Home by another name - Chapter 5

**Author**: roomtable202

**Fandom**: The Unit

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

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_

Present time

Coming back from the 303rd, there was a special spot Jonas hold dear to his heart. It was doubling the corner at his street, when he will first see the lights on at home and will physically feel under his skin, on its very bones, the true meaning of the quipped "Home Sweet Home".

He felt it for the first time quite a few years ago. He had been leading his original team for some months already without major incidents and then, a mission went awfully wrong and he faced for the very first time the certainty of death; said mentally his goodbyes, sure as he was he would be alive just for another minute. In the end, they all made it safely back, but for him something changed deep inside, badly shocked at the insight recently experimented that he might be the best trained operator in the world but that wouldn't keep him out of harm's way for ever: he lost his "you can't touch me" inner chant.

Then, driving home from the compound after that mission, he doubled that corner and saw the enlightened windows of his home, calling him, saying loudly he had a place where he will always find care, respect and understanding, for the bonding between Molly and himself when they created their family was freely born from both a deep love and a deeper commitment too.

As usual, he would arrive home and park and move mechanically, as today, but that warmth always felt new and kept on heating him from all the cold in his life, extreme as it had been, welcoming him back every time he crossed the door as that time did. He left the keys and the spare money over the ceramic dish at the entrance, close to the photographs of his loved ones. It was 7,30 pm. He was expecting to surprise Molly with his early arrival.

"Hey, sweet thing!" And the moment he said it he was greeted back by the distinct sound of Grey throwing up its guts in the bathroom. He cursed his bad timing, for both of them.

Jonas glared at Grey when he got out the bath, barefoot, just with his pants on, belt unfastened. Grey's mouth thinned out, he looked away and coughed. In his hands there were some blood stained gauzes.

"Hey... You OK?"

"Yeah, yeah... Molly offered that I could stay a couple of days. You don't mind?"

"Nope... I'm glad to have some male company around."

"If that's OK with you, I'm back to bed... I'm kind of tired."

"You should go then. Mind coming here a moment?"

"Uh?"

"Let me have a look at those cuts in your back before you go. You can't see them all by yourself. (...) Aha, they seem to be doing right. The swelling is down. Having any fever?"

"No. I am good. I just need to rest overtime."

"Need any medication or anything?

"No."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah." And with that, head down, Grey went back into the room and left Jonas on his own, resenting some kind of unspoken uneasiness between them on the way their conversation had developed but not being sure whether it was because of Grey's usual lack of social skills.

Carlito had always had that fresh edge to make fun of almost everything in a witty, light way; his quick replies, all in a fraction of a second, were always a relief for all of them when the pressure of the moment threatened to be overwhelming. Nonetheless, when in some occasions the conversations among the team would derive to a more personal angle, he was intently, almost avidly, looking and hearing like he was in a kind of social behaviour master class where he had all to learn. Nothing of his own life leaked on those rare occasions except the occasional love exploits he will happily share with all of them, and always from the funny side of life.

Jonas look wandered to the entrance again. One of the photographs ever present in the Blane's home entrance was the one of the first team he commanded, posing in front their humvee: Mack, Lyle, Pinknie... all fresh out of selection, a master blaster of a team.

Sometimes he thought bitterly about the previous members of the team that were no more,.. like Lyle and Pinkney, and missed them dearly, truly. He knew the same happened to Mack and to Tom Ryan too, as together they had been a hell of a team, complete, perfectly round, professionally and personally. They always felt, lived and shared like real family too. With Carlito, Jonas felt some piece was missing in the middle.

After a quick shower Jonas walked to the kitchen to start preparing dinner for Molly and himself just to hear Grey throwing up again. It seemed like a long night was ahead. Although he was determined to grant him the same privacy that a couple of hours ago he had asked out of Molly, he couldn't help leaving two bottles of ginger ale and an opener at the bedroom door for him to find in his way back; and then, closed the kitchen's door.

_5 days before, somewhere on high ground in Bolivia. From Dirt Diver's oral account in the Cave._

There was no mistake in Betty Blue's signaling: he was falling down again and needed to move for heat. That was putting us all in a hell of a problem, because the only feasible way to do as planned was to wait for the situation to evolve. With no further warning, he started to rest his weapon very gently on the bedrock and moved really slow towards Top; both exchanged some signing between them. Top seemed all steamed up in his looks to Betty Blue but finally gave him the OK sign to whatever he was proposing. I saw Betty Blue smoothly reaching for its fighting knife and I took it he was going to try and get our stalker out of the way. By then, we all were extremely tired. We didn't have any more water with us which was an extra burden to deal with in case we had to wait some long hours there. I was hoping Betty Blue had some extra reserves of strength to have the job done; clearly he was the best of us all with the knife. If he succeeded, most possibly he would buy us our ticket to the riverbed, get some water and establish the final line to the border. If he didn't, he definitely would trigger the alarm for the whole operating perimeter and we would all get caught in a swarm of Chaves's men.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: Home by another name - Chapter 6

**Author**: roomtable202

**Fandom**: The Unit

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

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From _Dirt Diver's personal account to Tom Ryan, in the Cave_

5_ days before, somewhere on high ground in Bolivia_

"Grey kept moving forward, to an advanced position. Top gave us the "Wait, wait, wait" sign and then he looked intently to the two of us and signaled with two fingers parted that we should keep an eye on Grey."

"It was well over an hour with not a thing. Suddenly, we spotted some movement between the low banks of bushes near the two rocks, some 150 yards in front the line of trees and close to the riverbed. It was Grey, rising from the ground sideways to the left, like he was coming from the river. It was a shock, because he was making himself plainly visible, first crawling on his hands and knees, then trying to stand up. We could clearly see him staggering there, half naked, blood soaked all over. He was panting heavily and crying out something in Spanish about "he made it", "he was safe", "he was rich". We exchanged astounded glances with Brown as both Brown and I thought that he had cracked up in the middle of his solo mission and was out of his mind, but Top's looks told us otherwise. Then, Grey stumbled and fell face down and didn't get up."

"Some 20 seconds after that, one figure appeared and kicked him hard on his side making sure he was no threat; Grey didn't move. His attacker picked something shiny from the floor near him and raised it in his hand for someone else to see. Two more figures appeared out of the nothing and moved by his side; one was the blonde Top had spotted originally. All of them seemed pretty excited and started talking fast, in English; I couldn't understand what they said though. They turned Grey around and searched him over very quickly. Next minute, one took Grey by one foot, the other by the other foot and dragged him all over the ground in direction to the corrugated top building we spotted at our right. The third followed suit covering the trail Grey was leaving behind him, sweeping all the way with a big thorn leafy branch."

"Top signaled quickly to the two of us we should take advantage of this opportunity window, with the passage apparently clear for now, and start going fast south east to the riverbed, get some water and head for the border. Brown was in charge of the package, I should back him up all the way. Top would be following some 100 yards behind to cover both of us. There was no time for discussing. We had just a few minutes. We left Grey's automatic and backpack there, hidden under the low bushes, quickly covered them with dust and made a fast run for the riverbed."

"Once we had our canteens refilled top speed, we moved to the secondary extraction point in patrolling, which took us some 10 hours to arrive. Top followed, arriving some 10 minutes afterwards, all without any further incidents. We settled down, low profile, waiting for our transport to arrive. There was a thick silence between us three; we didn't even dare to cross our looks."

"At the time, I was extremely pissed off by this turn of events,... to willingly sacrifice one of us for the sake of a B2 level mission. And I couldn't get it straight how did we arrive to the point of such a tradeoff. Carlito had taken us all by surprise once again with one of his craziest stunts ever. Sure we were already working out in our minds the quickest way to get him back as soon as the package was secure, but 10 hours was like 10 days or 10 months as things were... It was more than a long shot bet to assume he was doing well, more so on the ruined state we left him behind. (...) From top down, the mission had been shit hitting the fan."

"Three hours later came the sound of our approaching chopper. It became louder, the gunship flashed and hovered over the road, then settled in a cloud of dust which made it easier to go for it making a difficult target. Crouching, we ran beneath the downdraft of the rotor. Top got in, took some fresh apples and water. The chopper started to get into motion and then Top jumped back to the ground and signaled us to remain behind. I tried to jump down too and leave Cool Breeze to bring back his cargo but I was stopped by the lieutenant at the chopper hooking me backwards by the arm and crying like mad "What the hell is this? Can't get out! We can't stay here!"

"From the ground Top cried over the deafening sound of the engine to him: "Move it out! Move it out!!" and that was that. The chopper lifted off and soared away with Brown and myself back to the nearest base, leaving Top and Grey behind. The rest till we delivered the package you know already, as we followed the drill. (...) Hell... I will be damned if I still can understand all the little things that went wrong on that mission... I guess sometimes you get the bear and sometimes the bear gets you. (...) It almost got us there."

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	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: Home by another name - Chapter 7

**Author**: roomtable202

**Fandom**: The Unit

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

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(4_ days before, secondary extraction point)_

"Dog Patch 0-6, Dog Patch 0-6... This is Snake Doc. Dog Patch, respond. Over."

"Go ahead, Snake Doc. Over."

"The package is on its way. I repeat: the package is on its way. Dirt Diver and Cool Breeze back to secondary base. Betty Blue MIA. Betty Blue MIA. Over."

"Snake Doc, roger that. What's Betty Blue's situation? Over."

"Captured by unknown English speaking tangos. Military background. 13 hours ago. Situation unknown as for now. Over."

"Are we clean? Over."

"I am to it. On my way to the capital to look for some local support and ground transport. Over."

"Snake Doc, It's a go. Go clear with Alpha Prime about cross-operating on the zone. Confirm. Over."

"Roger. Next contact in 12. Over."

"Roger. Out."

_

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__(Same time, in the warehouse, somewhere on high ground in Bolivia)_

Grey lay crumpled on the floor, where he was thrown against one of the cement walls of the warehouse, his shallow breath whistling through his teeth, his conscience back from his self induced black out a few minutes before. He didn't open his eyes until he was fairly sure there were three voices in the discussion taking place far away, and even then he did so cautiously, just in case he had more company around. He couldn't see much: just the wall and part of the dusty floor he was laying on.

He closed his eyes again and concentrated on what was going around. Some birds, quietness and those three talking over in plain American English about who should be back on guard and who was staying to interrogate him. He couldn't hear it all clearly, the pain kicking hard on him; his back was on fire and by the intensity of the dullness on his side, he had one or two broken ribs as well; he breathed deeply and made sure none of them had punctured his lungs.

So far so good. He would make his official come back to life when those three were almost arriving to a deal, messing things up again for them and thus get some extra minutes for the team. Up to now, the original deployment of the plan was paying back.

Before, back on the hill, with his mates, he was sure he couldn't stand another 12 hours of dead motion, stuck between a rock and that freezing cold, waiting for the cover of the night. His fragile physical condition could have put them all at extreme risk should his attention fault in the slightest. Just some silly mistake like any metal piece clattering against the bedrock ground they were laying on might have blown their cover and have proven a deathly threat. On top of that, he needed to move for heat or he would die from exposure in a few hours.

The way he saw it then, it was an impossible situation leading to an easy decision: serving to create a distraction that could buy the free passage of the team with its package down to the frontier. It would forward the present scenario and create new opportunities to prevail for all of them, whether there was just one stalker or more than one.

At present, already three days had passed by since they had missed their first extraction point, plenty of time for the damage assessment to be made at Dog Patch, the mission being safe on that side. When he'd held long enough and done his acting bit to allow for those 24 extra hours for the Team to arrive at the secondary extraction point with the package, he could start moving along again himself.

He was confident he would find a way, as life had taught him so many times in the past, there was always one escape, a Plan B, and he had always found his just in time. So he will let the interrogation about the gold coins -they all were bearing hidden in their belts during this kind of missions in order to get the favor of the locals-, and its origin unfold and go on for as long as those 24 hours and an extra bit more. Part of the act involved trying a win-win and get in exchange some water and something to eat, enough to keep his wits, preparing for escape or for extraction, the one that would come first, because he had no doubt at all that the Team will come back for him as soon as the package was secure.

One step at a time. Haste makes waste. Right now, just breathing was a bitch, with the pain that flared at his side, not to say of the thousand different biting twinges on his back and the acute stinging of the strategic cuts he had inflicted on his head and eyebrows himself, blood always being a good additive to drama. With the awakening of pain, a wave of nausea took him by surprise. He couldn't help but to gag on as he forced down the bile that rose up his dry throat. About time for the show to go on.

"_Agua,... Agua... __Por Dios... Agua..."_

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	8. Chapter 8

**Title**: Home by another name - Chapter 8

**Author**: roomtable202

**Fandom**: The Unit

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

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Grey's pleading for water didn't pass unheard or unattended. One of them came by his side with a canteen and helped him to a seated position against the wall to drink. He took advantage of his position to look around.

The place was some warehouse type, ruggedly constructed to withstand the impact of bullets, no corrugated material on the walls, even a potential armed assault. It was a clear interior, with an upper wood floor passage around the walls at some 10 feet over the ground; enough to use the upper small windows to shoot out and defend the position easily; it was the cheap easy version of an ancient castle's crenels. There was a central ventilation system, four bunks, a camp kitchen, quite a few containers of different shapes and sizes scattered around and many chains hanging from the pulleys on the rafters. There was one coin like a living room, with new furniture and carpets. When abstracting the whole picture from the immediate, it was easy to see how the room was divided into overlapping sectors of coverage, something just another highly trained professional like Grey could see.

"_Más agua, señor... Agua..."_

"Who are you, _amigo_? _¿Quién eres?" _Now he had the three of them around. One was the owner of the blonde head freshly spotted by Jonas, plus two hard looking blokes, one with a broken nose in his mid forties, the other a much younger man. It was the Young One who passed him the canteen to drink, which he did at quick gulps, before he took it away from him again.

_"Gracias, ... amigos... Gracias... ¿Ingenieros americanos?_

"What is he saying?"

"He is asking whether we are American engineers."

"What the hell do you care? Do we look like engineers? It's us making the questions here, you stupid bastard!" The one with the broken nose launched a kick against Grey's left thigh.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?" Broken Nose kicked him again, harder this time.

"_¡No me peguen! ¡No me peguen, por Dios! Yo no he hecho nada... __¡No me peguen!" _Grey started pleading while covering his head with his arms and hands, rocking his body back and forth, his broken ribs setting him on fire.

Grey was still playing ping pong with them when an approaching vehicle was heard and two of them went to check. After a short while, a fourth guy appeared; clearly the leader of the other three by his body language. He had an uncharacteristic red hair and his assured behaving and manner when he was updated by the other three told him immediately the guy was a real pro, not the kind of gung-hos he had been dealing with up to now. He came close to him with a pistol in his hand and sent the rest of the group to his watch posts.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"_No entiendo._ _No sé,... No sé qué quieren... __Ayúdeme, señor..."_

"What are you doing here? What-are-you-doing-here?"

"_No sé que quiere, señor. No sé nada. No entiendo." _The hell was he getting anything from him.

"Oh ... Cut it out! Don't play the poor little you with me... Betty, isn't it? Yes, the name suits your girlish figure. We knew about your landing and we have been monitoring your radio calls since then. Your team was supposed to be delivering your piece some 30 miles away from here and there you are... What are you doing here and where is your team?"

"_Señor, yo no le entiendo..."_ So, he knew his callsign as well as had some kind of intel on the unit initial whereabouts.

"You could have fooled those idiots with your gold coins trick, but not me. I was trained in the same places and with the same people than you did. And let me tell you something: I have a loaded belt too, just like you, see? And I'm gonna enjoy breaking you with it." Red Head snapped and he swiftly took off the leather belt he wore through the loops around his pants waist, leaving the heavy metal buckle hanging at the end of it.

Speed, surprise and violence of action: those were the keys to success and survival and that was one of the first things they were taught at training. Then it was the ability to shoot what you intended to shoot and nothing else. It seemed that Red Head had been paying attention too to that primary lesson. His attack on Grey was sudden and brutal, and he didn't spare any exposed parts of his body. Grey couldn't do much but to shield himself the best he could.

"Who did send you to spy on us? Who..." For a moment, Red Head stopped and turned his head around reacting at the unexpected sound of a bird crashing against a window.

Immediately, Grey saw the opportunity to throw himself against Red Head's legs, aiming with his head to his privates and making a run. Instead he kept on protecting the best he could his head and his vitals, his broken ribs giving him a hell of a time with every tensing of his muscles. His mission shouldn't change: to provide them entertaining for a day. The belt buckle was making him suffer heavily when it hit on his most tender spots and, from a given moment on, he lost control and couldn't help but gasp and groan all the way until Red Head grew tired of filling him in.

"Squeak, piggy, squeak! I know everything about you and your team, but you will tell me yourself because I want you to. Make yourself ready for an encore, you stupid dwarf!" And with that, Red Head took a chair and a cold beer and sat in front of Grey studying him.

Grey pulled himself up against the wall, his whole body trembling. The pounding of his head increased so much he thought he was going to pass out. Shaking heavily, he put his hands to his painful head, his forehead covered in blood. He couldn't stop himself, the sick burning feeling in his stomach had returned and a wave of nausea hit him hard. His stomach lurched and he put a hand over his mouth because he didn't want to lose the little water he had in him.

He knew he had to focus on his breathing, try to detach from his bodily sensations, but his concentration got disturbed by some harsh memories of his own past that Red Head's insults triggered on him. It was not the first time he was hit with a belt. In fact, he had been punished very often as a kid, with a belt, with a shoe, with a hairbrush, with a spoon, with the fists... He had been so used to it, that up to a certain point it seemed back then just a natural part of life.

It never occurred to him to defend himself until he enlisted in the Army aged 16 and he realized he was able to fight back and make himself prevail with his meager 120 pounds and 5,6 feet tall. It was a long, long time; very many years in fact, since he permitted that sour part of his life intruding into his mind. "_Breath, breath, breath... Calm down... Steady yourself, dude...Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one... Let's do this. Breath, breath_..." he told himself.

He forced his mind to focus again on the mission and his present situation. It made sense. It might be an special ops camp. Four of them on standby at any given time; the rest patrolling for a week or two. A classic, just by the book. Should it be true that Red Head had direct intel from the local Alpha Prime's HQ, he was in the hands of some cross-action American agency. That was no guarantee whatsoever that he would make it even through the day by the way that Red Head was staring at him right now. Yes, he was a real pro, his eyes didn't give him away when he send the empty bottle of beer flying against Grey, who barely had time to throw himself back to the floor.

"Very well, little Betty... Coffee break is over."

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	9. Chapter 9

**Title**: Home by another name - Chapter 9

**Author**: roomtable202

**Fandom**: The Unit

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

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(A few hours later, in the warehouse, somewhere on high ground in Bolivia)

Waking with a start, his mind foggy, Grey thrashed about, impulses sparking like electricity through his muscles. Immediately took conscience of his new situation and that he couldn't move freely. He looked around only to find himself some 20 feet above the floor, inside a small wood crate, hanging from the rafters on the ceiling, the kind used to transport heavy goods. The crate was so small that he didn't have space to stretch out neither horizontally nor vertically.

His thoughts were confused and the pounding of his head increased in the same proportion in which he was regaining hold of himself. He was aching all over, his throat was dry and sore from groaning; he had a terrible sick feeling in his stomach, and his back, arms and legs were hurting so much he didn't dare to move the few inches the crate allowed him to.

Grey breathed long and deeply to slow everything down. He tried to listen, but all he could hear was the sound of the blood pulsing through his head. It seemed that he was left on his own for what he could see from his position and he couldn't hear anyone around either, except the ever present chirpy sound of birds and the flapping of its wings against the corrugated roof.

His most immediate recall was an alternate timing of being beaten, humiliated and interrogated by Red Head and just by him, whilst the other three would be coming in and out of the warehouse and stop by to watch while they were eating their sandwiches or drinking; occasionally spitting on him rests of the food or their own snots. He was not tied up or retained at any moment, but his physical condition was so precarious that it was evident that he couldn't be any real threat for as long the other was holding his pistol handy.

Red Head will always ask the same two questions that Grey would answer with some silly remarks in Spanish, playing cat and mousse, dodging physically and verbally the other's assaults,... It was a total nonsense. At a certain point, some primal instinct took over command on Grey and, with his last strength before the little adrenaline he was functioning on wearing off, he passed from just defending himself to attack at Red Head too, taking advantage of all and any opportunities to launch himself head-on against the other, hoping to make him so worn-out to play this game that he would leave him aside, or beat him to a total blackout, where Grey would feel no more. It was the last one.

Grey stared down through the sheaths at the concrete floor, the crate tilting with every little movement... The floor seemed so far away,.. down, so deep, deep down... He had to tell himself to keep calm. _You are not falling! You are not falling! The wood crate will resist. They don't want you dead. Alpha Prime doesn't want you dead._

But his body was telling him otherwise and he fell in the middle of a sudden haze of dizziness shrouding him in a chilling cold, the vicious kick of his inner parts twitching and shrinking to remind him of that very same lingering sense of blind fear from his childhood; almost forgotten, until Red Head brought it back from the innermost corners of his mind. Only that this time, his fear was that of a full grown, trained man who should have had it under control, bottled; so, it was double as intense, a full blow on the head, upfront again in his thoughts, clinging there, stubbornly. He started trembling again, his strength drained. _It's a reflex reaction. Keep yourself together. You won't fall. Control it! Relax, relax! They know what they're doing. They are professionals, they won't mess up. The crate will resist._

Then, something new came to his help and switched his attention elsewhere; he felt a small surge of panic when he realized his pants were soaking wet, not being sure whether he was bleeding from someplace new. He was soon relieved to find out that it was just a proof that his kidneys were functioning properly, water flooding out of his system, which was good news after two days of dehydration. _You are good. Stay calm. Fear is just a perception of the mind. The mind can be controlled. The body is controlled by the mind. Think big-time. _

In fact, all he could do now was to think, and being there between interrogations might prove strangely comforting. He'd probably stay there for most of the time now, very possibly until someone from Alpha Prime HQ was coming for him, if this was an agency camp, or maybe his own Team to extract him out; or himself, making a run for it at the very first opportunity.

All in all, he considered, there was something that didn't go straight in. Somehow, the whole developing of last events was real awkward in itself. If Red Head would have really wanted to known the team's whereabouts or why he was there, there were far more radical ways to make him talk. Particularly, if Red Head was true and he had been trained for top ops back in the States. Grey repositioned his legs in slow motion.

He had left his clock and his knife behind before turning in, but most possible, by the fading light filtering through the upper windows, more than ten hours had passed since he made himself visible and he was quite sure that the Team had profited every minute of them. So, for him, there were only hours left. And with each second that tick past, the end of it, one way or the other, should came a little closer.

He would know soon enough. He reminded himself that he had been trained to withstand this for hours, days, even weeks at a time. Now that he had regained control once more of his "independent republic of self" -the way he would refer to himself every now and then for fun- and so a new cycle started, he tried to make himself comfortable, ready to fetch some sleep, getting prepared to put both his aching body and his whirring brain on standby for as long as he could. He set his mind on remembering that perfect moment he found in one of his away missions. _The soothing sound of waves... The Roses Beach, a calm, solitary beach in the Mediterranean Northeast coast of Spain, under the shadow of the pine trees, the caressing of the cool evening breeze sweeping from the sea and refreshing his warm skin..._

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	10. Chapter 10

**Title**: Home by another name - Chapter 10

**Author**: roomtable202

**Fandom**: The Unit

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

**NOTE: To whom might be interested. The first three chapters are already translated and published in Spanish. Language has to be switched to Spanish in the right hand box of this very same page. Translated name of the story is "El hogar tiene otros nombres".**

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_

(28 hours after, outside the warehouse, somewhere on high ground in Bolivia)

Before approaching the building with his jeep, Jonas stopped on the top of the nearby hill and took a firing position to assess the situation with his binos. "The worst fear is the fear of the unknown. Instead of fearing the unknown, it was better just not to know", he read that somewhere and it stuck on his mind. He found it kind of funny on this situation and decided to go for it without further evaluation.

When he crossed the two spotters watch points at each side of the narrowing access path, he just wished the guys in there were willing to respect the orders from Alpha Prime in full. The relations between the different ops corps weren't ever the best, not to say they were the worst of all. That's why he decided to come for Grey on his own, without backup, and create lesser opportunities for a conflict.

When he heard Jonas would be arriving to the warehouse in short, Grey was mentally constructing his 2nd perfect explosive perimeter for the compound, the one nobody could defuse in time; it helped himself through it all, to stay bright and light during the waste time. He had to go through some further bashing and thrashing during those last 20 hours of his detention, but at least he had outstretched out of that crate during them and they gave him some water every now and then; even the odd banana Red Head will throw him through the sheaths of the crate while making some ape sounds did taste good.

Jonas found Red Head was already waiting, with Grey right in front of him making it difficult to tell whether he was armed or not. Jonas instantly recognized the ginger Chap McKenzie from past selections for the unit and that was not good news at all. Although he had been told Grey had been well taken care of since the advanced operation's group had the official clearance from HQ, Grey couldn't look worse and it was clear whatever happened there had taken his toll on him. His body was shaking from top down, covered with blood and dirt, but both crossed their stares and the live spark of his dark eyes told him that there was a long way to go to get him defeated. It was no time to settle accounts just then, he was alive, that was that mattered and now it was Jonas's turn to set the final lock off.

"It's been a long time, Chap. What's up?"

"What's up? You see... Ugly Betty here tried to get in without being invited. At least you care to be polite. All for the good old times, babe? Lucky you I recognised that thunder voice of yours over the radio a few days ago or you'd be a man short, again... Quite a few on your black list by now, Doc. By the way, why took you so long to come here?"

"I took the long way, what else? But you wanted me here and here I am. I know Alpha Prime gave you your orders. If there is anything I can do for you in exchange, I am listening."

"Hey, Jonas... is this Ugly Betty your girlish friend, now? Is that why the team gave him the name Betty? Always have a medic, a sniper, and a chuckling little chick in the team; all of them very helpful. I bet you use him on your solitary nights... To get you all entertained. Is that why you choose someone as useless, Doc? Long missions away and all... I think I put him to a test too these last days. Pretty lonely myself in here as well, more than a year now without talking to someone with more than 5 different phrases in their conversation. But Betty here, he is not the talkative kind though... Your toy boy just makes some funny grunting when you press his belly button. Hey, Betty? God is he ugly, Jonas!"

"Save your own twisted thoughts for you, Chap. Not my likes. You know why we're here. I've got the clearing from Alpha Prime. He was just scouting, he got lost. Again: I am listening. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Ah, so? Were you, Betty? Scouting? That's what they call it now? The little guy always in front of the attack row. Your personal shield, Jonas." He swirled around taking Grey's head in the way and against the ridged concrete wall at his left. Grey took the full blow bouncing against the pointy grains of concrete which immediately make him bleed again. "Hey, look! Not much resistant as your body armour is he? But, what the hell, he can take the bullets aimed at you, just like Lyle did."

This kind of open interplay took Charles Grey by surprise, not even in SERE had he suffered the extreme verbal aggressions he had endured during his time on the warehouse with Red Head, but that he passed them too onto Jonas using their fallen comrade made him feel an intense hate of the man. In his life, he did believe and act based on "don't hate the player, hate the game"; but Alpha Prime had called the game over and Red Head was off his meter by far. Then, he caught the discreet "wait" sign Jonas did to him with one of his fingers and made an effort to get back to his previous perfect prisoner mood.

"You were one of the best I ever trained, Chap. You've made your point with me. Let's be professional on this."

"Yeah... Let's be professional, Jonas. After all, I'll be seeing you soon in Yuma."

"Not me. That's between you and them now, my friend. That fight might go on; but between you and me, it's over." Jonas addressed Grey with his eyes. "You all right?"

"I'm good, Top."

"Red Head" Mackenzie pushed Grey ahead so hard that sent him right into Jonas arms, but Jonas didn't make the slightest hint of grabbing him or even just steady him, never parting his look from McKenzie, so Grey bumped against Jonas' left side, staggered and hit the ground as long as he was uttering a high pitched cry when his battered rib cage rolled over a pointy rock.

"One last squeak? What a pitiful exhibition till the end, Piggy Blue. This is a goodbye then for now, "Top"..." And with those final words, Chap put his right hand over the hip holster and walked backwards until he entered into the building, closing the door behind him.

"Can you get up on your own?"

"Yeah... yeah..."

"Go to the jeep and start the engine. Then, make yourself comfortable in the back. I have your backpack and your MP5 there; also some water, fruit and blankets. You better take some painkilling thing from your backpack now because we won't be stopping until we cross the border and we have more than three hours of bumping and thrashing in front of us. Nothing too heavy, I want you alert all the way down there. Understood? Let's move. Being around gives me the creeps."

"Yeah,... and I won't ask to be behind the wheel."

"Don't be such a sissy. Daylight's breaking."

"You calling me names too, Top? What am I, a free for all now?

"Just said: do it. Move, move, move, man!"

Jonas kept on looking around for any sign of further danger till he heard the engine on and he went walking backwards to seat himself behind the wheel. Once there, he felt so relieved to be unscathed and having Grey back in one piece after such a bad to worse mission that he almost lost control of the vehicle while doing a rushed U-turn.

He allowed himself a quick glance behind to Grey, who had settled himself securely in the rear and was already scanning the arc at sight, his MP5 ready at his lap. He cried him out loud: "Man, you are a rock! You good in there? Nothing that cannot wait a little bit further?"

"I'll go along! It's not as bad as it looks! Go for it!"

"Brace yourself then. It will be a hell of a ride, but God it feels good we'll be making it together!"

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**Title**: Home by another name - Chapter 11

**Author**: roomtable202

**Fandom**: The Unit

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

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On boarding the plane that was taking them back home, the first thing Grey did was to check the flight plan on the cabin and only just after that to address Jonas.

"Top, you OK? Do you want me to have a look at you?"

"I should be asking you that." Jonas stared at him with a concerned look in his eyes.

"I'll take care of it as soon as I am sure you are good, that's why there is a medic on a team, not any chuckling chick, remember?", Grey snapped back at him.

"What the hell was that, uh?" said Jonas defiantly. But Grey didn't answer, instead he looked away.

"Your feet?" Grey insisted in a softer tone.

"I checked while I was waiting for the ground transport. Just the normal stuff. Don't worry, I am good."

They secured for the take off and immediately after, as soon as they were on the sky, Grey headed hastily for the farthest corner taking with him several bottles of water, a couple of blankets, the med kit and a new set of fatigues out of the ready box they always found for them on those flights. He stripped off what was left of his stinking clothes. He steadied himself over the heap of those and started a perfunctory washing up. Jonas was checking on him with his eyes half closed and felt for him when he saw Grey's back and arms, an inextricable pattern of blue, red and black. After his cleaning up, some spots were bleeding again.

Jonas approached Grey's corner and put a hand on his shoulders and gently, but firmly, made him seat on the side bank, over one of the blankets, covered his legs with the other and opened the med kit.

"Don't you want to take some painkilling thing now? It doesn't matter anymore if it knocks you out."

"No. I feel sick enough. I don't think my stomach can take it."

"Will it do you good a bag of saline to rehydrate quickly?"

"I'd rather keep on water and some fruit if I can hold it. Let's save the saline, just in case. There is only one bag and we have more than 14 hours ahead of us on this plane. I saw the flight plan; they take us half around the world to get us back this time, you know?." To make an appearance back in some far away US military airport from which to come directly to the base was a standard procedure to justify the provenance of the plane, the cargo and the men of the 303rd logistics, although for the men of the unit it had transformed in a little added torture, wishing to be home again the soonest possible after any mission.

Johnny, the sergeant who was usually in charge to prepare their gear, their parachutes or wherever they wanted to take with them, aware of it, would put some special items for them to find in the container along with the clean clothes, fresh food and drinks (even some fresh beers) on the final extraction plane, like magazines and newspapers and, sometimes, even he would send his own mp3 with music and a note reminding them to bring it back or not coming back at all; but, whatever they found in "Johnny's piñatas", as they called them, never was enough to compensate those endless, final hours.

Jonas took the initiative of cleaning the wounds on Grey's head, arms and back without further talking. He worked through the scrapes and cuts, taking out all the small splinters and little stones and dirt embbeded. It took him more than two hours in all as he committed himself on cleaning them thoroughly, regardless of the extra pain that he was imposing on Grey for his added scrubbing on the tender, raw wounds. Eventually, both engaged in some small talk about the life at the base and the best place to pass the holidays.

Grey, with one arm protecting his broken ribs and the other extended, holding tight on to the tailgate profile to steady himself, was well aware than thus he would be spared an added visit to the medic services on the base and three more hours of delay in their well deserved rest and just left out some occasional rasping gasps and grunting during the procedure without complaining further. Only a couple of cuts needed some minor stitching and Jonas took care of it himself without even bothering to ask.

During the second flight back, Jonas slept most of those 12 hours, in and out, but whenever he opened his eyes saw Grey on a different position, those skinny fingers of his moving restlessly through his hair, around his lips, pinching the bridge of his nose or rubbing his eyes; working with trembling hands to get out the odd few tiny slivers of splintered bark in the fleshy pads of his palms, drinking water in slow sips or walking up and down the aisle. He approached him a couple of times to check on how he was feeling and tried to start a conversation only to stamp himself against a wall of "yes" or "no" both times. On arrival at the base, Grey stepped back before entering into the compound's hangar.

"Top,..."

"Go, rest at ease... I'll take from here." Jonas didn't stare back until he was deep inside the depot, giving Grey time to get in himself, for he was wondering what direction will Grey head for: right for his apartment, left for holing up.

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	12. Chapter 12

**Title**: Home by another name - Chapter 12

**Author**: roomtable202

**Fandom**: The Unit

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

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[_The Cave ready room, on arrival. Just before Chapter 1 time.]_

The debrief was just a couple of hours and Jonas tried to keep it as matter of fact as possible. After all, Dirt Diver and Cool Breeze had already given a full report two days ago when they delivered the package safely and that was all that mattered, the bottom line. All the colonel cared for now was that Jonas confirmed with his own words that there were no traces of their actions or of just being there at all.

"All right, then. We are all clear."

"Cristal clear."

"Is that so? Because I've heard otherwise from our friends in Alpha Prime."

"And what is that?"

"I've had a word about Grey's in Colombia, They put him through a wringer, hard; just to probe him, just to probe the unit's worth through him. Someone in AP's HQ took great pleasure in telling me he didn't top it with a good front stance."

Jonas's eyes retracted with rage at the stupid waste of it: all for nothing,.. to come to naught but taint a tooth and nail a fighter like Grey.

"It's the first time Grey fails to a debrief, it's a bad sign. Damn annoying as he might be sometimes, Grey is a great asset to this unit and I don't want to loose him." Ryan made a pause and hardened his stare. "I would like you to monitor his condition... and we are not talking of his physical condition here. Take care of him for a couple of days. Talk to him. Do whatever is necessary because I will be deploying him before Thursday and I don't want to be dealing with a rag doll by then, understood?"

"Grey is as resilient as a man can be, no need to doubt him." Jonas maintained his eyes on Ryan's who nodded without giving away any other sign of what was going through his head right then.

"I have my orders, you have yours. And, Jonas: well done. Get some rest yourself. The rest of your team will be here by the afternoon if you want to drop by."

5 minutes and a quick call home after, Jonas poked his head into the tiny, pitch dark room with some piled bunks that served the 303rd men as emergency dorm. He tilted his head towards that penetrating smell that hung in the air.

"Charlie."

"What? What...?"

"Let's go home... You had your time now, but to no use, I see, 'cause you still stink like a goat. Get a shower. Change cloths. I'll see Molly gets us some meat and potatoes. Maybe a beer or two. Get some sleep afterwards."

"What?"

"You heard me. Do it."

"You never call me Charlie."

"Maybe it's about time, then. Move. Double time, man. I'm starving!"

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	13. Chapter 13

**Title**: Home by another name - Chapter 13

**Author**: roomtable202

**Fandom**: The Unit

**Disclaimer**: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

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(_Present time. At the Blane's. Late evening.)_

Charles Grey turned and looked towards the bed in which he did sleep in the first day, the covers all messed up now. Sleep seemed pointless again when it would be plagued by snatches of the past, when he would spend hours imprisoned in his own mind, wading through dark memories, searching for a final resolution that would never come.

He could tell his stomach was starting to settle, finally... and he needed to close that bloody leak of his mind shut too. He left his head rest sideways against the bedroom's wall, over his crossed arms, looking through the window, listening to the quiet of the night.

It was funny in a way, that Red Head mistook that insulting him for his size was to make him crack and kept on insisting, when it was the sight of that belt, that precise moment, ready to bite on him, what really made a connection with his most inner, primal fears of his past.

Panic taking hold of him in a given moment was something he could face but fearing fear was not an option. He made a decision: it was all about control, choosing the right memories to keep the others at bay. He could start with a first step precisely right there, with some order and application to steer his own mess.

He made the bed military style, arranged his backpack, fetched a fresh shirt, took a big towel from Betsy's wardrobe and went out of the room resolved to have a quick shower and share some time with Jonas and Molly in the kitchen in an effort to regain some normality.

Under the hot water, he left his mind wander on how that particular kitchen had given him a taste of a real home those last years. It was like it had some living quality, always welcoming him in a warm, cozy embrace. The lingering aromas of fresh brewed coffee or some slowly cooking stew hanging around would be the first thing to greet him while approaching the front porch, knowing that he would be immediately invited to share them with Molly, Tiffy, Mack, Hector or whoever else was there at the moment. Hector...

He had never felt pressed to do anything in particular there, neither having to worry about what was expected of him. Just getting in, he will feel well, almost immediately, at ease, distended... The last cup of coffee after doing the dishes, sometimes with a cloud of bourbon, was the best part. He held those moments like a campfire to his soul and he had always been grateful to Molly for making them possible.

When he addressed himself to the kitchen, he heard Jonas and Molly's voices low-pitched, without inflection, they were talking about Betsy in a casual manner and he felt he would be intruding in the few quiet family moments they possibly shared in a long time and he turned back towards the bedroom resolved to get some sleep.

* * *

Late at night, when all of them were already in bed, a dull heavy thump was clearly heard and Jonas woke up to check. He heard some painful gasps and opened the door of Betsy's bedroom to peer within the darkness. He saw Charles slowly pulling himself off the floor; one hand grasping the bed clothes, the other hand clenched tightly around his belly and ribs."

"What happened?"

"I fell off the bed..."

"That I can see. Are you feeling dizzy or something?" He helped Charles to sit on the bed and sat himself in the small armchair of the room.

"No. I just fell off... I am used to a bigger bed."

"Yeah, sure! Like the king size ones we use to sleep on deployment... What's wrong with you? Wanna tell me?

(...)

"We have shared quite a few nights together and you never had nightmares before. What's up, man?"

"Nothing, nothing. My body is bullying me a bit, that's all. I will be good by tomorrow. I feel much better now."

"You know I don't want to step over the line, but Molly and I are concerned about you." He looked intently into Grey's dark eyes, who returned his gaze, eyebrows furled. "Being a medic, does not make you the best doctor for yourself."

"I already have an appointment tomorrow to get X-raying and some blood tests done, just to make sure, I was covered by all kinds of dirt in there, you know... But I'll go somewhere out the base. I don't want, Dr. Farris poking and prodding at me the whole morning, and then Dr. Willis, second round, third degree, trying hard to find out a link to PTSD while enquiring about my sexual life every here and there. And, (...)

"And?"

"And... the last thing I need right now is a report from both of them on Ryan's desk. I need to get back in the saddle as soon as I can." Jonas's lips tightened and he agreed with an almost imperceptible movement of his head.

"Was it hard there for you, those days, waiting for a go?" Jonas asked him and, strangely enough, Grey's tense muscles seemed to relax.

"I won't lie to you. There were a couple of moments were I lost the perspective, so to say. (...) You know,... I screwed up big time back there. The first time that shit of Mackenzie went against me, he hit it right in the bull's eye... he opened a long closed door and I betrayed myself with my face, or my eyes, with something. He saw the way he should go to try and flake me... and he did it real pro."

"He didn't get anything from you."

"He didn't want anything from me. It was a show off for you or for someone else to see and I was just a convenience good, wheels within wheels."

"To that, I will just say: you've been in the Unit for six years now. What else there is? You already did it all, no need to impress anyone, no need to prove anything about yourself. You passed this test back in 2000. What you did up there was a very brave move and most savvy. You really got us out, package and all."

"Hey, another day in the office for us... We have been through quite a few together."

"Want my advice: an open door, you can close. Whatever happened there stays there and you move on forward."

"Jonas, I haven't thanked you..."

"Thanked for what?"

"Looking after me."

"Cut it out", said Jonas with a smile in his eyes.

"You, Molly, both had my back these days. You cared for real..."

"Leave it."

"You know, I was a nappy-headed kiddo back in LA who had plenty of empty bottles to play with, not much food, strange faces around all the time, some beatings here and there and not much school; pretty wild... It was Hector, at the medics, who taught me little by little how to build trust and loyalty from scratch; then, friendship; and then, something far deeper than blood ties. I didn't have any previous reference of any of it in my life, any at all, but him... (...) Hector... (...) He... (...) Hector... (...) Man..." He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, head down, he took a long wheezing breath and exhaled slowly before continuing. "I guess in this job, eventually, bad things find us all, isn't it...? (...)" Jonas waited another long pause without giving any signs of impatience, shocked in a way for the bluntness of Grey's words. "Life took its toll on Hector and moms all too soon, most assuredly both deserved better."

Charles Grey raised his head, fixed his deep brown eyes into Jonas's and extended towards him his left hand, a fleeting twitch of the corner of his mouth betraying his disciplined restraint; Jonas hooked his thumb with Grey's, both clasping hands to a fist that Jonas shrouded with his free hand for a brief moment.

"You are family to us. Molly always has felt the same way about you and Hector. You both won her heart from day one. Do you remember coming back from your induction training in Idaho? When Hector and you prepared her that early breakfast instead of waiting for her to prepare yours? It was yourself who cut that small bouquet of roses from the porch, just for her to find on the table. No need to say anything else. You come and go as you please, sunshine or rain, but most important for us is that you feel you are at home too."

"Jonas, you don't know... There were things of my past, things that I did, what I was, in my neighbourhood, in the medics, which for sure you'll despise me for... "Charles Grey stared blankly ahead before following."Last time we were in Iraq you said that you didn't believe that people can change, but that you had seen it though... I just hope you were thinking on me... and that you are not mistaken."

And with that, Charles Grey stood up and throwing over his shoulders the wrinkled blanket at his feet, exited the bedroom and the house, to set himself on the back porch. He sat on the floor, his back against the wall, taking in long breaths, allowing the air of the night saturate his lungs, cool his mind, the lights brighter through those tears that-would-never-be drying out in his eyes.

A moment after, Jonas came with two ginger ales and made himself comfortable at his side. He offered one to him.

"As a matter of fact, I was." were the only words Jonas said, almost in a whisper.

Neither said anything else. Their silence was not broken either by Molly when she joined them soon afterwards. Flanking Charles on the other side, she throw over the legs of the three her precious handmade bedroom quilt, the one that always made her feel at home post after post, huge teardrops rolling down her face.

"Oh, Molly, don't... " Charles started, but Molly quickly stepped in by planting a gentle kiss over Grey's cheek, her tears streaking his face.

"I know. I am just glad you made it home, Charlie. God bless you."

* * *

IT'S THE END


End file.
